


At Least This

by fandomnerd



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Fluff, Gen, House of Hades Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, toddler!percy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomnerd/pseuds/fandomnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Her son’s laughter was so much better than the sound of Zeus’ stupid thunder, and she would fight to keep the gods from robbing him of that innocence for as long as she possibly could.</i>
</p>
<p>Sally and Percy deal with a storm the best they can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Least This

Dark clouds rolled across the sky. Sally frowned, glancing back at the screen of the small television, where a balding weatherman predicted thunderstorms for the better part of the night. She worried at her lip, going over all the supplies they had in the apartment yet again. If they needed anything, she’d have to get it now. She couldn’t risk leaving once the storm started.

Thunder and lightning had never been Sally Jackson’s friends. Not since she was a very little girl. With time, her fear had turned to resentment, especially after she met Poseidon. He told her stories of Lord Zeus, tales of some of his misdeeds that had Sally clenching her fists and fighting back the urge to say things that even Poseidon couldn’t protect her from.  He would chuckle, look at her with a twinkle in his eye and a gentle smile on his face, and just like that the fight would drain out of her. Why waste time being angry when she had such a short time to be with Poseidon?

When Percy was born, however, it was a very different story.  Where she hadn’t feared for herself in a long time, she suddenly feared for Percy’s safety every minute of every day. Every day she counted herself blessed that she had clear sight—something she had considered a curse for so long—because it meant she could make sure not to hire a monster as a babysitter when she went to work. But protecting him from monsters was one thing. Protecting him from the gods’ wrath was another thing entirely. Sally was realistic enough to know that as much as she wished and prayed, she could do little to protect Percy from his uncles, if they ever found out about his existence.

Percy seemed to sense some of her anxiety. So much more afraid of both the dark and the lightning than other boys his age—and for good reason. That didn’t make it any easier for her to listen to his terrified whimpering at each crack of thunder or his plaintive wails when he woke up and his room was too dark.

Speaking of which... yes, there he was, peeking his little head around the corner of the entranceway to the kitchenette. His big green eyes were curious, despite still shaking off the haze of sleep. His hair was a mess, but she could wait until tomorrow to brush it. He stumbled over to her and wrapped his arms around her leg, squeezing sleepily. “G’mornin.”

Sally grinned down at him, filled with amusement. “It’s three in the afternoon, Percy.” Though it certainly didn’t look it, the now nearly-black clouds blocking out the sun.

“Afternoon, then.” He shrugged his little shoulders. He was always a little disoriented after his afternoon naps. She put her hand on his head and ruffled his soft black curls.

“How about you hop up and sit at the table, and I’ll make you a snack?”

He craned his head back to beam up at her. “Okay!”

He clambered up the chair, finally settling in and getting comfy seated across from the inside of the kitchen, so that he could still see Sally. His feet dangled several inches off the ground. His Under the Sea coloring book was still spread across the table, a picture of a purple and yellow clownfish half-colored in. He grabbed at the book, and Sally grabbed the crayons from where she’d placed them on the bookshelf, opened the box, and handed it to Percy.

Sally looked nervously at the clouds outside again, and made sure the windows were shut tightly. She absently made a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches, her attention split between the incoming storm and Percy, who had given up on the clownfish, and was now coloring in a mermaid with blue skin and a bright pink fishtail.

When the sandwiches started sizzling, she slipped one onto Percy’s favorite Finding Nemo plate, and sliced it in half diagonally. She slid her own onto a plain plate and sprinkled a pinch of sea salt onto it. Carrying both plates to the table, she raised an eyebrow at Percy, whose brows were furrowed as he concentrated on his coloring book. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Percy,” she began, and he looked up. His eyes lit up, and he reached out for the plate. “Would you please put away your coloring book before I give you your lunch? Your drawings are so pretty, it’d be a shame to get grease and cheese all over them.”

He frowned but nodded seriously, as if she’d just given him a Very Important task. He then proceeded to close the book and shove it, and the crayons, to the very edge of the table. A few rolled onto the floor. She gave him a mildly chastising look, but he smiled at her winningly and reached out for his plate again, and she couldn’t be mad at him. She placed both plates on the table and slid his to him.

He took a big bite, then spat it back out, his eyes watering. He turned to her. “It’th _hot_ ,” he complained, pinching his tongue between his fingers. She gave him a sympathetic smile and stood to get him a glass of water. _Stupid_ , she thought, _I should’ve already done that_. She filled his blue sippy cup with cool water and handed it to him.

He immediately started sucking it down, completely forgetting his hurt tongue. Sally wouldn’t have been surprised if the tap water had done something—healed him, maybe, or at least acted as some sort of balm.

The hour passed uneventfully. Sally took advantage of every last minute she got to spend with Percy, intensely aware of how much of his life she was missing by having to go to work. Still, the anticipation of the storm had her on edge.

She _almost_ relaxed when she heard the first crack of thunder. At least the waiting was over, she thought sardonically.

Percy was settled in her lap, a blue fleece blanket thrown over the both of them as they watched The Little Mermaid (Percy’s second favorite movie, after Finding Nemo). When he heard the thunder he flinched, cuddling closer into her. He clenched her pant leg with his tiny fist, but was otherwise very brave about it.

When they heard the next crash of thunder, booming louder and angrier, he couldn’t help it—he curled up into a ball, his hands going over his ears. Sally’s heart clenched in sympathy, and she turned him around so that he was facing her. She hugged him tightly to her chest, and tugged the blanket up so that it covered both of their heads, enclosing them both in a little makeshift fort. His eyes were clamped shut. She smoothed a thumb over his forehead with one hand, and rubbed his back with the other, trying every trick she knew to soothe him. Rain started to pound against the windows. Sebastian the crab sung about life under the sea in the background.

Sally started singing softly along with the movie, which was what finally got Percy to open his eyes. He still looked so frightened that Sally wanted to hug him and never let him go, and also to go give Zeus a piece of her mind, because who did he think he _was_ , making her son feel this kind of fear. Instead, she continued to sing, moving the hand that had been on his forehead down and poking him on the tip of the nose, gently. He went cross-eyed, and started to giggle. She smiled at him, and he buried his face in her neck, still giggling helplessly. She couldn’t help herself. She dug her fingers into his sides and started tickling him. He laughed harder, pulling away from her to clutch his sides. “Mommy, mommy no stop that tickles,” he giggled.

Her son’s laughter was so much better than the sound of Zeus’ stupid thunder, and she would fight to keep the gods from robbing him of that innocence for as long as she could.

 

 

 

 

 

Thirteen years later, he stands in front of her, a man. A man who’s gone through so much more than she could ever imagine, and has come back scarred and hurt. She worries that she’s failed—she _knows_ she’s failed, and the guilt of the fact of this has been gnawing at her for years—that despite her best efforts, the gods have stolen something from her son that he can never replace.

She sneaks into his room the first night he comes back home after—she can barely make herself say it, doesn’t want to believe her baby, her precious baby boy had to endure such tortures—after _Tartarus_ , just intending to watch him sleep. She hasn’t seen him in almost a year, and she just wants to, just needs to bask in his presence for a while. She doesn’t expect him to wake up, but he does, almost the second she steps into his room. She supposes it makes sense; he must’ve honed his senses, trained himself to react to people approaching. It’s what’s kept him alive. She should be grateful, she thinks. Instead it just makes her sad. 

He registers her face after a moment, though, and relaxes. Since he knows she’s here anyway, she sits next to him on the bed, runs her fingers through his hair. He relaxes further, melting into her touch, and it sends warmth flooding through her that despite everything, she can still do at least this for her son.

After everything, at least this she can do.

**Author's Note:**

> So uh. This was supposed to be pure Sally+toddler!Percy fluff. And then it turned into this.
> 
> Also, let's just pretend that Finding Nemo came out when Percy was a baby, okay? Okay.


End file.
